


Con Los Ojos Al Revés

by Arae



Category: The Exorcist (TV)
Genre: Angst, Feelings, M/M, Pining, definitely a lot of pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 15:29:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13790637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arae/pseuds/Arae
Summary: For a man who spent so much time looking into Tomas’ eyes, in a nearly worshipping way, it’s a wonder that as they’re about to part ways, he cannot bring himself to try and catch a last glimpse of them.Or, five times Marcus looks into Tomas’ eyes, and one time he cannot.





	Con Los Ojos Al Revés

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! So this is my first fic in nearly two years, and it's probably going to be the first of a few Tomarcus fics, because I'm now obsessed with this show and this ship. This first fic is for you Rita, because I wouldn't have known about this show if it wasn't for you.  
> I would also like to thank the amazing Discord server of The Exorcist for motivating me to write this and being so nice, and particularly @neganstonguething for beta reading my fic, since english isn't my native language. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

 

_There are eyes that will turn your world upside down, that will teach you how to fly without ever leaving the ground._

I. 

The first time he meets Tomas, he hears his voice before seeing his eyes. The stranger’s accent, undoubtedly Spanish, comes as unexpected despite being quite familiar to Marcus’ ears. 

It goes on for a minute or so, and Father _Tomas_ _from St Antony’s in Chicago_ definitely came here with something on his mind. Eventually, Marcus decides to turn around in order to get a glimpse of his unprompted visitor. When he does, he isn’t struck by anything in particular, except maybe by the fact that this man looks a bit too young to be a priest. But Marcus’ never been one to judge. 

At first, the charcoal in his hand and the not-so-blank canvas in front of him seem more interesting than anything this stranger could offer him. But then, Tomas speaks those words, a _name_ , and brings back a ghost from Marcus’ past that assuredly still haunts him, even after eighteen months spent in this resting place. 

This is the moment Marcus understands that something is different, even if at first, he doubts of the veracity of the man’s words. 

Marcus Keane is quite a stranger to the sheer concept of personal space, which wouldn’t be new to anyone who spent more than a few hours in his company. For someone who just met him, however, this might come as a surprise. And it certainly seems to be the case, seeing how his visitor reacts when Marcus backs him up against the wall, against one of his own creations, a charcoal sketch of a nameless form like the ones that plague his dreams whenever he closes his eyes. 

Early in his life, he has gotten the habit of getting close when talking to someone. Eyes are the window to one’s soul, they say. Well, Marcus likes to believe that if someone doesn’t really listen to his words, their soul might. Besides, it does seem easier to spot a lie when looking straight into someone’s eyes. And God knows Marcus’ been lied to a lot. 

He doesn’t spot any lie when he finally makes eye contact with Tomas. Instead, he sees a pair of young and bright eyes, two circles of light amongst those of broken men like him in St Aquina’s, the light long since gone. They’re intense, a deep pool of brown he feels like he could drown in, brown like mahogany wood, soft and comforting. 

 _Había una vez un gato con los pies de trapo y los ojos al revés._ And the eyes upside-down. 

Tomas’ eyes are also dark and Marcus knows without any doubt that this man is hiding secrets. His eyes show determination and as he learns later, betray a certain pride. 

Marcus doesn’t think much of it as he breaks eye contact and goes back to his charcoal, the only thing that seem to appease him and in this case, to control the anger he feels at Tomas’ visit. The man eventually leaves without Marcus giving him another glance. After all this time, this is what’s sent to him? It certainly doesn’t feel like a miracle. 

 

II. 

Marcus remembers the first time he saw Tomas laugh. It happens while they’re preparing everything for Casey’s exorcism, shoving mattresses against the windows and barring the light from coming in. It does feel strange to be back – to prepare for an exorcism – but not as strange as having a partner after years of being on the road alone. Years of confronting demons without a  helping and comforting presence by his side, like the loner he has always been. 

He cannot bring himself to remember what exactly caused Tomas to laugh, because as soon as he saw the joy in his eyes, everything that led to it was completely forgotten, sucked into a void shaped like his own heart. 

At first, it’s the sound of Tomas’ laughter that reaches his ears, a genuine laugh he wasn’t expecting to hear when he spoke whatever words he had on his mind. Tomas’ eyes are incredibly bright, even in the semi-darkness of what used to be a bedroom before they pulled every single furniture out of it. 

There’s amusement in his eyes, and Marcus wonders how it’s possible, knowing what happened with Casey and what’s bound to happen eventually when they bring her home. They're preparing for an _exorcism_ , Tomas’ first, and the young priest should be scared. He shouldn’t have the heart to laugh. And yet, here they are, and Marcus laughs with him only because it feels natural to do so. 

The pace of his heartbeat inexplicably accelerates, and the only thing he can do is smile back at Tomas while beginning to _stare_. He feels like he would grip his own heart if his hands weren’t busy with the wooden boards he’s currently using to set the mattresses in place. 

This is also the first time Marcus’ eyes drift down to Tomas’ lips. He sees the corners of his mouth curve upward as he smiles, and he idly wonders if they would feel as soft as they look. They’re just slightly plumped and very much _perfect_ , enough for Marcus to silently curse at whoever thought it was a good idea to let this man walk freely on earth. 

Marcus quickly tries to shake the thoughts out of his head when Angela walks into the room and ask them if they’re ready, but the thoughts linger for far more longer than he’d have liked. 

 

III. 

His blood is boiling as Marcus grabs Tomas and shoves him out of Casey’s bedroom. He cannot believe what he first saw on the screen in the living room, and then in front of him after making his way up the stairs. He feels betrayed, but most of all, he feels like a fool for thinking Tomas would be alright on his own during his first exorcism. 

As the pulls Tomas out of the bedroom like he would for a child and gets close to him, he notices how dark the priest’s eyes are. His pupils are dilated, so much that his eyes appear almost entirely pitch black while Tomas is panting, his heart probably beating hard in his chest as he slowly understands what has just happened. Whenever Marcus stares into his eyes he sees lust, temptation, seduction. He doesn’t have to ask to know whose form the demon has chosen in order to tempt him. 

Marcus knows what his own eyes look like. There’s anger in them, disappointment. Tomas is a liability, bringing him here was undoubtedly a mistake. As he sends him away, Marcus reconsiders most of the decisions he has made during the past few days, most of them concerning the young priest himself. In that moment, Tomas’ eyes are the last thing on his mind.

A few weeks later, however, as Marcus is laying down in the dark in the first shitty motel they’ve managed to find – Tomas sleeping peacefully in the single bed next to his own – he thinks about those eyes again and how mesmerizing they had been. The perfect picture of arousal. Before he can stop himself, his betraying mind pictures a scenario in which he’s the one causing this. A scenario in which Tomas doesn’t think of Jessica but has Marcus on his mind. 

He knows exactly how it would happen. His fantasy starts after a particularly tough exorcism. They’re both exhausted, yet adrenaline runs into their veins like a drug and before Marcus knows it, Tomas is pining him against the wall of their motel room with his strong body. He’s staring at him with those big black eyes of his, as full of lust as they had been after the accident. Except this time, those eyes are _all for Marcus_. 

There are warm hands running all over his body and he’s touching Tomas too as they start to undress each other, the buttons of Marcus’ shirt being sent flying around the room without him caring the slightest bit about it. They keep going until Marcus isn’t sure where his body ends and Tomas’ body begins. Their lips brush against each other several times and he’s panting hard, begging against Tomas’ lips, _please don’t stop_ , _touch me, I’ll die if you stop–_

His eyes suddenly snap open and he didn’t even know they were closed. He does know, however, that his body is warm and that his blood is rushing down in a way that even a cold shower might not be able to help. 

That’s when Marcus truly realizes he’s _fucked_. 

 

IV. 

Sometimes, he doesn’t expect to be met with Tomas’ eyes but ends up being agreeably surprised. He’s usually the one who moves closer to him for any reason he can find, not the other way around. So one morning, when he wakes to Tomas’ face hovering above his own and the man’s hand on his shoulder because _you were having a nightmare, so I woke you up_ , Marcus is quite taken aback at first. 

Tomas’ eyes are the first thing he sees in the morning, and he realizes without too much surprise that he could get used waking up to this. 

The more he looks into those eyes, the more Marcus sees the little details in them. The more he comes to associate them with safety, something stable like he hasn’t had in the last twenty years. Dark amber orbs, shining whenever the sun hits them. Cinnamon eyes, ready to embrace him if he falls, to hold him back and wrap him in a warm blanket of forbidden affection, whispering soft words into his ears until he knows he’s safe. The more he looks into those eyes, the more Marcus wants it to be the only thing he ever sees. It feels like there’s every shade of brown in them, from the color of the black tea he has in the morning to the color of the hot chocolate Tomas likes to drink when he’s cold. 

He’s getting tired of touching with his eyes only, and he dares to imagine what it would feel like to touch Tomas, more than with just a hand on his shoulder or on his cheek. He pictures himself, sliding an arm around Tomas’ waist. Running his fingers over Tomas’ naked collarbone. Pressing his lips against his cheek, just under the eyes he’s come to worship. 

As Tomas asks him if he’s feeling alright, Marcus idly wonders how much time he can hold gaze with him. More often than not, Tomas is the one who ends up breaking eye contact. If Marcus usually doesn’t think too much about it, besides regretting the loss of the contact, it’s different this time. 

This time, when Tomas gives him a gentle smile and pulls away, back to whatever he was doing before Marcus started showing the sadly usual signs of a nightmare, the ex-priest is glad the final decision to look away wasn’t his own. Because he’s too far gone. He knows that if he keeps staring, he’s going to drown in those eyes. 

And Marcus thinks, _just let me drown._

 

V.

When Marcus understands the roots of Tomas’ plan, using himself as bait, offering himself to the demon in order to save Andy, words of protest slip past his lips before he even thinks about it. _You’re talking about a suicide run_ , he tells him, because that’s exactly what it is. And he can’t afford to lose him. 

In the darkness of the abandoned shack, Marcus locks eyes with Tomas and he spots the determination he saw in those eyes from the first day they met. It’s precisely when he notices the resolution, the tenacity in Tomas’ eyes that Marcus understands he won’t be able to change the priest’s mind. _We go to the end of the world, we bring them back, nothing else matters_. But what if I can’t bring you back, Marcus wants to ask. Nothing else will matter if he loses Tomas. 

It feels like they’re alone but Mouse is watching them, and Marcus doesn’t even wonder if she’s aware of what’s going on. She’s clever, and she knows him. Of course she _knows_. 

Tears are on the verge of falling on his cheeks and he can barely hold them back as Tomas grasps the back of his neck and stares at him right in the eyes. It’s not fair, Marcus thinks as they stand closer to teach other than they’ve ever been before, both physically and mentally. Marcus doesn’t even think about crossing the gap separating their lips. It’s not the right time for that. Besides, it would mean breaking eye contact and he knows he’s currently not strong enough to do that. 

_Then bring me back._

In less than a second, something happens. There’s an understanding between them, and Marcus slowly nods. He _will_ bring him back. No matter the cost, no matter what it takes. He made the mistake once, but he won’t run away when the person he loves is in danger. Not anymore. 

He’ll be damned if he lets a demon extinguish the light in Tomas’ eyes.

Marcus holds gaze for as long as he can, holding onto it like a man walking in the desert would be holding onto his last drops of water. Once again, Tomas is the one who breaks eye contact first, and Marcus silently thanks him for doing what he would have been physically unable to do. 

His voice is shaking when he orders Mouse to let Tomas do it. A part of him still hopes Tomas will back away from this, and come back into his arms instead of opening his own wide enough for the demon to take him. 

A few minutes later, he’s seized with terror when he understands they’re losing him. In the moment, Tomas’ eyes are entirely white, but they feel the farthest from holiness they’ve ever been. 

When he sees another pupil appear alongside Tomas’ golden brown one, Marcus knows what he has to do. As he pulls the trigger, he’s aware of what he’s doing and most importantly, _who_ he’s doing it for. He’s rejecting God’s love for another kind of love, one as pure and as genuine, and he doesn’t regret it, not even for a second. 

The sound of the firing gun is almost as loud as Marcus’ heartbeat. 

 

VI. 

He’s compromised. He killed an innocent man, and what scares him isn’t even the fact that it’s a mortal sin, but that he so easily accepted it. Worse, that he would do it again in the blink of an eye if Tomas’ life was in danger. 

So here he is, in a motel room that looks way too similar to the countless motel rooms he’s resided in in the past six months. He can’t even stand up until Tomas shows up, and he only does because he knows he has to leave. There’s no other way. 

At first, Marcus looks into Tomas’ eyes, but regrets it when he sees the tears that are threatening to fall. He feels like a coward, because he’s leaving while knowing he’s responsible for those tears. As much as he’s responsible for the tears in his own eyes. 

Then, Tomas decides a handshake isn’t enough and takes him into his arms instead, and Marcus is taken off guard. He can’t bring himself to return the hug, because he’s not sure he would be able to let go if he wrapped his arms around Tomas. If he allowed himself to _feel_ him and how perfectly their bodies fit against each other. 

His lips are quivering and then the embrace is over way too soon, but he would feel like an hypocrite if he asked for one more second, one more touch, one more _look_. He feels like a drug addict needing their fix, but it’s what he’s always been when it comes to Tomas. They pull away and Marcus is afraid that if he looks into Tomas’ eyes, he will realize he’s making the worst decision of his life. For a man who spent so much time looking into Tomas’ eyes, in a nearly worshipping way, it’s a wonder that as they’re about to part ways, he cannot bring himself to try and catch a last glimpse of them.

If he does, he knows he won’t leave.

 _Not forever_. _Just for now_. 

He nods, _for now_ , and he turns around before Tomas can say or do anything. He needs to escape, to run away from this motel room that suddenly became too tight, too hot, and something is constricting around his chest, he feels like he’s going to choke if he stays in it for one more second. 

When he walks away, it’s with the image of Tomas’ face burned behind his own tired eyes.

 

* * *

 

After they’ve parted ways, Marcus only sees Tomas’ eyes in his dreams. As time passes, he starts growing afraid he’s going to forget them. Not exactly forget, but Marcus is scared that the details he remembers so vividly will slowly start to fade. He dreads to wake up one morning, only to ask himself, were Tomas’ eyes brown or green? The thought terrifies him. 

He wants those eyes to be burned into his mind until the day he dies, wants them to be engraved into his very soul until he’s not sure who it belongs to anymore. 

When he finally hears God’s voice during a chilly morning spent on the sea, after months of silence, Marcus doesn’t expect to see Tomas’ face. But he does, and from the few images God decides to share, it appears clear that Tomas is in danger. In the vision, he sees pain in Tomas’ eyes, fear from something unknown to Marcus, and as they seem to look directly at him, those eyes feel like they’re piercing right though his soul, like they’re claiming it as their own without knowing that they already own every part of him, every fiber of his mortal being, and beyond. 

When Tomas whispers his name, Marcus does the same, desperately hoping he will be heard, but knowing his words will die as soon as he’s spoken them. However, he now knows what he has to do.    

Tomas already turned his world upside-down with a single look, and Marcus knows he’s ready to go to Hell himself if it’s the price to pay to see him again.


End file.
